


The Hitman

by Larry_Klaine_Stylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Angst, Drama, Hitman!Louis, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larry_Klaine_Stylinson/pseuds/Larry_Klaine_Stylinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson is a hitman. When he gets assigned the job of killing Harry Styles, he finds himself falling for the curly haired boy. Will it be enough to stop him from finishing the job?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hitman

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a prompt fill on Tumblr.
> 
> This is a lot different from anything I've ever written, but I really like it???

Louis Tomlinson was a hitman. Had been for going on three years now. It wasn't a job he would have seen himself in as a child, obviously, but when he'd dropped out of Uni at age twenty two, he'd just sort of fallen into it, and if he was being honest, he fit.

He'd never been the type of guy to get attached to people, he'd never been in love, never even kissed anyone. So getting names from a faceless person, and then going to kill the person the name belonged to wasn't really out of his comfort zone.

His first few kills had made him a little uncomfortable. He had laid awake at night, unable to sleep, images of blood and the sound of shocked screams filling his mind. But by the time he'd killed around seven people, the initial shock of the job wore off, and he didn't feel anything at all.

He didn't consider himself a serial killer, because that's not what he was. He'd never choose to go out and kill someone. He didn't get any sort of pleasure out of it. It wasn't enjoyable for him. It was just his job. Just as much as someone who sang in night clubs, or filed papers in an office, or flew an airplane. Just that his job consisted of ending other people's lives.

He was called into his bosses office, and handed an envelope. In it was the name of the man he had to kill, which happened to be Harry Styles, and a picture of said man. Louis looked him over, trying to commit the picture to memory. He always observed his targets for a week or so beforehand, making sure he knew exactly where and when would be the best to attack, unnoticed. Harry Styles was a rather fit man, looking to be somewhere around Louis' age. He had broad shoulders and large hands, as well as a mop of curly brown hair. Louis thought it would be easy to spot him walking down the street.

So he went out to his car, where he had all of his supplies at all times. This consisted of a camera, for taking observational photos, a special phone that he used only for work (he needed a separate phone so that it would be untraceable back to him if he needed it to be), some snacks, a pair of binoculars, and various weapons. His favorite happened to be a small gun. That was the quickest, easiest way to get the job done. Although sometimes you were somewhere where you needed to be quiet, and he tended to opt for a knife then.

In the envelope with Harry's information, Louis found a list of some of the man's favorite places to go, as well as where he worked. He worked in some big office in the middle of town, and Louis drove there right away, pulling out his binoculars and peering up into all of the windows, finally finding Harry on the top floor, just left of center. He watched as Harry went through the mundane actions of his every day job, filling out paperwork and stapling pages together.

It was times like these that Louis was glad he had a job that was a little bit out of the ordinary. He didn't think he could handle sitting in an office for eight hours a day like that. He'd go insane.

He watched Harry for the rest of the day, and then he followed him, making sure to stay far enough behind not to be seen. He'd always been good at that part of the job. Following people while staying unnoticed.

He followed Harry to a bar, and at that point was forced to get out of his car and go inside. Harry got a drink, chatting with a few people Louis assumed were his friends, and Louis noticed that whenever he smiled, dimples the size of large craters would form in his cheeks, and Louis found that the man was slightly adorable.

He mentally slapped himself for thinking such things. This was no time to become a little girl with a crush. He'd never been that way, and he certainly wouldn't now. He had a job to do.

But he couldn't deny the way his stomach twisted in happy little knots when Harry's laughter carried itself throughout the room.

"Pull yourself together, Louis." He muttered to himself.

Louis followed Harry home after that, watching as he walked into his bathroom, and came out thirty minutes later wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. And if his eyes ran over the expanse of skin, taking in all of Harry's long torso, and his toned legs, well Louis would deny it until the day he died.

It went like this every day for the next week, some days Harry would go to dinner with someone instead of going to the bar, and Louis would find himself getting jealous, wondering if these were dates, or if Harry was just going to dinner with a friend.

Louis always told himself that that didn't matter, and that he really shouldn't care, but he did. He had never felt the way he felt about Harry with anyone else. He decided on Saturday, after going to Harry's home, and watching him laze around all afternoon, that when he left his home, Louis would follow him, as usual. But this time, once they reached Harry's destination, he would make himself known.

So Louis watched as Harry got into his car, and then he followed him to a small pub. It seemed as if he were there alone, and Louis decided it would be the perfect time to go over to him.

"Fancy a game of pool, mate?" He asked.

"Sure." Harry replied. "Why not? M'Harry, by the way." He extended a hand.

Louis shook it, "Louis."

"Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine."

Louis could feel butterflies whooshing around in his stomach, and it all felt very childish, as well as very unnatural for him. On top of all of that, he had a job to do, and within the next two days, Harry would be dead, by Louis' hands, so bonding with him would be a waste of time and a hindrance to his productivity.

Still, he and Harry played a few rounds of pool, and Harry bought him a drink, and everything was going nicely, really. Harry seemed to like him, which was a feeling Louis wasn't used to, having always been distant.

"Would you like to come back to my place, Louis?" Harry whispered into his ear, as they finished their third game at the pool table.

Louis nodded dumbly, and Harry took him by the hand, leading him out to his car, and taking him home with him.

They ended up snogging on Harry's couch for the better part of the evening, and when Louis finally insisted that he leave, Harry had seemed disappointed.

Louis felt ridiculous, letting himself be pulled into this. This feeling he was having. Whether it was love, or lust, or something else, he had no time for it. He had a job to get done. And yet when Harry asked him for his number, he found it impossible to deny him.

He followed Harry every day still, pretending to just be collecting intel, but he knew deep down that it was mostly because he wanted to see Harry.

Harry called him a few times, and they went out for drinks, and one time out to dinner, and Louis was damn near sure by now that he was in love with Harry, although he couldn't be positive, because he hadn't a clue what being in love felt like.

As Louis continued to follow him, he noticed that his dinners with other people, men and women alike, seemed a lot like the dinners he went on with Louis as well, and Louis couldn't help the hurt feeling that twisted in his gut.

On top of that, his boss had called him three times in the past five days, asking why the job wasn't done yet, telling him he was expected to be more efficient, letting him know that if the job wasn't done soon, he would be out of a job. Louis knew that when you were a hitman, losing your job often meant losing your life, and although Louis didn't have much of a life, he really didn't want it taken from him.

Harry called him up and asked him to come over, and Louis agreed. He would confront him about the dates he'd been on with other people. Harry didn't need to know how he knew about them, he just needed to know that Louis was upset. That he wouldn't stand for it.

He arrived at Harry's home and knocked on the door.

Harry answered, wearing tight, dark washed jeans and a white t-shirt with a deep v, exposing his collarbones. Louis tried not to let himself be distracted.

"Hey, babe." Harry greeted.

Louis entered the apartment, forgoing a formal greeting and diving right into it, "Why've you been going on dates with so many other people?"

"What?" Harry asked.

"Don't play dumb with me, Harry. I know you've been seeing other people." Louis scoffed.

"We never said we were just going to see each other, babe." Harry said, a reasoning tone to his voice.

"But you're mine, Harry." Louis said, stepping closer and kissing the other lad's neck, sucking gently.

Harry let out a low moan, "Am I?"

Louis was dissatisfied with Harry's response. He was risking his job for Harry. Risking his life for Harry. And Harry had the nerve to go out and see other people? To act as if he didn't belong to Louis?

Louis' work phone began to vibrate from where he'd put it in his jacket pocket. He needed it with him constantly now, because his boss had been calling so much.

There were a thousand thoughts running through Louis' mind, and he couldn't answer the phone in front of Harry, but he knew the man on the other end would be telling him to hurry up and get the job done. That his time would be up soon. And here was Harry, standing in front of him, looking as good as always, but not submitting to the fact that he belonged to Louis. Not agreeing that he was his and only his. And Louis couldn't take it anymore.

He grabbed Harry's face, kissing him hard on the mouth as he slowly inched his small gun out of the back of his pants, where he'd been keeping it tucked, just in case. Harry bit down on Louis' lip softly, and Louis pulled away, whipping his gun up and shooting Harry straight through the head in one swift motion.

Harry fell to the ground, blood pooling around him, and Louis' phone began to vibrate yet again, and this time he answered, "It's done." He said, before hanging up.

He looked down at the dead body in front of him, green eyes that used to shine so bright now staring blankly up, pale skin becoming even more pale, thanks to the loss of blood, and it was the first time since he'd gotten used to the job that Louis felt something after a kill. But this was different than the other times. This was worse. Because what he felt was remorse. Deep remorse and guilt and sadness and anger ripping at his insides.

He looked down at the lifeless, curly haired boy in front of him and began to cry.

Louis was going to be in trouble for taking so long to get the job done, and he couldn't handle the emotions clawing away at his insides. He curled into a ball on the ground, crying, and wondering why his mind had chosen now to start feeling. Why he couldn't have stayed emotionless. Why he couldn't have just gone along with his normal schedule, killing Harry within a weeks time.

He had a lot of questions, and there was only one answer he could come up with.

He heard sirens outside, assuming that one of Harry's neighbors had called for help. Louis hadn't been careful about it. He was sure someone had heard the gunshot.

He lifted his gun to his head, slowly, suddenly feeling emotionless again, which was a pleasant feeling to have as he pulled the trigger.


End file.
